


You Can Read Me Anything

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Series: Carry On Countdown 2018 [8]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Barely there Niall, Baz works in a bookstore, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Hints of FIona, M/M, Oblivious Simon Snow, They are both awkward, non magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: Written for the Carry On Countdown prompt Bookstore AU. Baz and Simon are university students. Baz works in a bookstore. Simon's looking for a gift for Penny. Misunderstandings, embarrassing situations, spilled coffee and unexpected gift wrap. A story of love that starts under awkward circumstances but manages to move on from there. Any opportunity to throw shade on the Mage taken.





	You Can Read Me Anything

 

 

**Simon**

 

Penny’s birthday is next week. I don’t know what to get for her.

She’d probably like if I didn’t make such a mess in the kitchen every time I cook but that’s not really a present now, is it? It’s a courtesy you’d expect from a flat-mate. Like you’d expect someone to clean her hair out of the shower drain.

I can’t think about the things that drive me and Penny stark raving mad about us sharing a flat.

Shopping for Agatha was easier. She liked _things._ Candles and perfume and picture frames. The bracelet I got her. The hat and scarf set. It was easier with a girlfriend.

When I had a girlfriend.

I don’t want to think about that either.

But Penny’s not my girlfriend. She’s my best friend so I feel like an utter pillock for not knowing what to get her.

Don’t want to get her something silly, like I used to. We’ve already got too many mugs at the flat anyway. Funny ones. Ones with stupid pictures or puns on them. Penny used to love those when we were in school.

I shove my hands in my pockets and frown at the world in general.

I stop by the bakery on my way home. Not that a cherry scone will solve my problem but it does make me feel better.

I catch sight of the new bookshop on the corner as I leave the bakery. I suppose it’s not really new. It’s been there for a few months. Penny raves about it. It’s got an eclectic selection of books according to her. Which means a fair selection of feminist literature, books on the occult, and ancient history.

I’ve been avoiding it.

It’s not that I don’t like books. I do. Or at least I do now. Didn’t care for them much when I was young. Had trouble reading when I was a kid. Someone finally figured out the issue and it was like a light turning on in a dark room.

I like books well enough now. Fantasy and science fiction mainly. Penny says I should read more classic literature and biography.

I like biographies. Just depends who they’re written about.

I stand on the street corner and scowl at the bookstore. “ _Open Sesame_ ” it’s called.  Odd name for a bookstore but Penny likes it. Says it makes her think she’s entering a magical world when she goes in.

I’m sure I could find something for Penny there.

I just don’t want to go in.

I’m sure it’s a fine bookshop. I know it is. I went in there once, when it first opened.

And managed to piss off one of the employees.

I didn’t mean to spill my coffee, really, I didn’t. He just startled me. Came out of nowhere, he did. I wasn’t expecting one of the employees to be lurking among the shelves. Thought they’d be at the counter or something like that. You know--selling books, ringing people up, the usual store thing.

But it seems this wasn’t that kind of bookshop. There was a red-haired chap up at the counter and an older woman at a desk near the back of the store. I didn’t know there was another bloke—one with longish dark hair and arresting grey eyes—prowling around the store and startling unsuspecting customers.

He came up right behind me, he did, and said “That’s a bit of a humdrum one. If you’re looking for a fantasy novel that’s not one I’d recommend.”

I’d been reading a bit of it. Just to get a feel for the book. See if it interested me. Didn’t expect some posh, disembodied voice to pop up out of nowhere in the vicinity of my ear. I started and my coffee went down my shirt, splashed onto the book in my hand and dripped all over their new carpet.

“Bloody hell! Give a guy a bit of warning, could you?” I turned to scowl at whoever it was who had crept up on me like that.

Slate grey eyes met mine. His gaze raked me from top to toe and it was obvious in his sneer that whatever he saw was sadly lacking. “We try to be helpful to the customers here. Wouldn’t want you to buy something you didn’t find interesting.” He glanced at the coffee stained book in my hand. “Unfortunately, it seems that you will be this time.”

I spluttered for a moment but had to admit to myself that I’d mucked the book up. And the carpet too. “Listen, of course I’ll pay for the book. I can see that I’ve ruined it. And I’m sorry about the carpet too.” I looked down at the irregular dark stain in front of my feet then back up at him. “You startled me. Helpful suggestions are one thing but sneaking up on unsuspecting customers like that is unnerving.”

He didn’t say a word back to me. Just held my gaze for a minute before turning away and bellowing “Fiona!” at the lady at the back of the store. “Did you think to stock any carpet cleaner in the back? We’ve just had our first spilled coffee christening of the store. I told you carpet was a terrible idea.”

I shuffled my way up to the counter to pay for my coffee-blemished book and there he was again-- waiting for me, no sign of the other chap.

Fuck _._

Rang me up without a word. Handed me my change and then pointed to an exquisitely lettered sign on the countertop. “ _Feel free to enjoy your beverages as you wander in the magical confines of our treasure trove of books but please **no open containers**. Books are magic and we wouldn’t want to damage them.”_

Fuck. I hadn’t seen the sign. I never put a lid on my coffee. Don’t like lids. Keep the coffee too hot. Cools down faster without one.

I grabbed the book and hustled out of the shop, becoming painfully aware of another skillfully lettered sign situated right by the front door as I did.

I’d have to remember a lid next time I came.

No, fuck that. There wasn’t going to be a next time. I wasn’t going to set foot in that place ever again.

And I hadn’t. I’d avoided it like the plague.

But somehow, I couldn’t avoid seeing the bloke. He was everywhere, all of a sudden, it seemed.

Walking across campus. In the library. At Ebb’s bakery.

Maybe he was always there and I was just noticing him now that I’d had that miserably embarrassing encounter at the store and shouted at him.

I stare across the street at the bookshop. Surely I’ll find something for Penny there. How bad could it be? I don’t have a drink with me. I can’t possibly have a run-in with him again. I’ll check the aisles to make sure no one is lurking about.

He must be a student. I’ve seen him on campus enough to make me sure of it. He can’t work there all the time. The chances of him being there on a Wednesday afternoon are slim, right? He must have class.

I don’t let the niggling realization that it’s a Wednesday afternoon and I don’t have class deter me. I need a book for Penny. She likes this store. I’ll find something and be done with it.

The beverage sign is still on display by the front door. I honestly can’t believe I missed it the first time. I’d have finished my coffee and pitched my cup or just come back another time if I’d seen it.

There’re a few people milling about the store. The woman who had been behind the desk last time is up by the counter today. Maybe I’ll be lucky and grey eyes won’t be here.

I wander over to a display table. An interesting selection but nothing Penny would like. I go down the aisles, looking at the titles and topics, trying to find the feminist section or the occult books. I can’t make sense of the layout.

I’m scanning the titles on the endcap and not watching where I’m going. End up bumping into someone as I turn into the next aisle.

A scattering of books falls to the floor and as I look up to apologize I see a pair of grey eyes.

Fuck. 

It’s him. The posh tosser. He’s not in class, he’s here. _Fuck_.

Maybe he won’t remember me.

“Sorry.” I mumble an apology and bend down to pick up some of the fallen books, not daring to meet his eyes again. I’m such a fucking wanker. I told myself I’d keep an eye out for lurking employees.

Although from the looks of it he wasn’t lurking this time. He was shelving books. He’s got a cart and everything.

The books are plucked out of my hand and I reluctantly raise my eyes to his. His eyebrow is arched up. He looks cool, collected and utterly bored. “At least you don’t have coffee with you this time. You’d be purchasing an entire set of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s books.” He waves a copy of _Little Lord Fauntleroy_ at me.

Oh shit. He does remember me.

“Sorry.” I shuffle a bit and bend down to pick up _The Secret Garden_ from where it sits by my foot. I hand it to him.

He takes it from my hand and his fingertips touch mine ever so slightly as he pulls it away. They’re cold. 

“Decided to venture into the world of bookshops again? Didn’t scare you off for good last time?” He raises an eyebrow, holding the stack of books to his chest. 

He had scared me off. Penny’s the only reason I’m even here but I’m not about to tell him that. 

“Looking for a book for a friend.” I suppose that’s telling him why I’m here. I’m such an idiot.

He turns away from me and I think this pathetic excuse for a conversation is over. I go to gingerly edge around him but he stops me. “Let me shelve these and I’ll see if I can help you.”

Even worse. Now I’ll have to actually speak to him. 

I stand there awkwardly. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about it. That’s his job. He’s supposed to help people find books. Not sneak up on them and whisper in their ears, I remind myself _._

I take a moment to settle down and end up watching him shelve the books. He’s tall, taller than me. Slim build but muscular, from what I can see of his arms. His hair is chin length, falling in dark waves but not obscuring the sharp planes of his face.

He’s got an arresting profile.

What the actual fuck?

What am I doing? Why am I staring at this bloke so intently? I can feel my face heating up so I turn to look at the shelf behind me, so my back is to him. The entire collection of Harry Potter books is in front of me. I focus on the spines.

It doesn’t help. I may not be looking at him but I’m still thinking about him.

He’s attractive. I’d noticed that last time, in passing, but in more of a pissed off way than I am now. I’ve gotten a closer look at him today. He’s actually fucking gorgeous. I want to turn around and look at him again but that would be a terrible idea.

I turn around and look at him just as he finishes shelving the stack of books and our eyes meet. My cheeks are hot.

He crosses his arms over his chest and regards me critically. “Looking for a book for a friend. Let’s narrow that down a bit, shall we? What kind of friend and what kind of books?”

“Uh. . . well that’s what I was looking for when I bumped into you. She’s got a lot of interests but feminism, antiquity and the occult are high on the list right now.” I look around and frown. “I couldn’t find them. I thought feminism would come shortly after Crafts and before Foreign Languages but I can’t seem to find it.”

“Feminism is in the Social Sciences so you are in the completely wrong section. Come on. Follow me.”

He tilts his head to the right and I trot after him, passing a few aisles of books before he makes a sharp turn and stops. I almost run into him but manage to catch myself before I do this time.

So Feminist Theory? Women’s Studies? Gender studies? Any of those sound promising?”

I just stare at him. I’ve not got a fucking clue. Maybe the occult would have been a better choice.

“Uh.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest again. “Give me some idea?”

“I don’t know. Is there anything that combines the occult and feminism? Or ancient cultures and feminism?” Is that a stupid thing to ask? It’s probably a stupid thing to ask. I’m going from bad to worse here.

His grey eyes are narrowed now. “Who is this friend of yours? It wouldn’t be Bunce, would it?”

A wave of relief washes over me as well as curiosity. “Yeah, yeah. My friend Penny. Penelope Bunce. How do you know her?”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s in here practically every week. I’ve had quite a few thought-provoking conversations with her.” He shakes his head. “Come on. This way. I’ve got something new that she’s likely not seen yet.”

He strolls across the store to another section. I don’t think I realized quite how big this place is. I don’t think I had the time or inclination to notice last time.

He plucks a book off the shelf but doesn’t hand it to me, just taps a finger on his lip thoughtfully and then turns in another direction entirely with me trailing along in his wake. He heads to another display table and picks up one of the books there. “Here you go. Either one will appeal to Bunce.”

I reach for the books and our fingertips brush again. I don’t know why I notice that. I look down at the titles he handed me. ‘ _Circe_ ’ and ‘ _Agrippina: Empress, Exile, Hustler, Whore_.’

He’s moved down the aisle already and is pulling yet another book off the shelf. “Here. This one’s new too.” I take the title from him, slowly this time, my hand brushing his once more.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

 

 

**Baz**

 

I hand him a another book Bunce will surely find of interest--a copy of _Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger—_ when it happens again. Our fingers touch. It’s the third time it’s happened. I don’t know what to think. I’m not attempting to initiate contact.

That’s complete bollocks. I’m desperately trying to initiate contact. I’m not letting go of the books as he grasps them. I’m holding them in a way that makes our touch inevitable.

I’m doing everything I can to prolong this interaction. 

I’ve seen him around campus for months now. He’s in my Film as Literature class. It’s an auditorium class—one of the most popular courses offered—so it’s hard to get to know everyone. He sits near the front, with Bunce. I sit in the back with Niall. 

The class is enjoyable but the view even more so. I try to avoid looking at him while the professor is lecturing but I have no such compunction before class. I get there early for that very reason. 

I know his name is Simon. I’ve heard Bunce call that name out at him. She shouted it across the room on the first day of class, to get his attention. 

Simon. 

I watched him come in the lower doors of the auditorium and saw him smile at the sight of her. 

I haven’t been able to look away since. 

I’m sure he didn’t even know I existed before he came into the shop. 

I still can’t believe what an absolute prat I was that day. I’d been watching him for weeks by then. 

Pining over him is what Niall called it but what does he know?

I’d been seeing Simon everywhere, it seemed. Class. The library. Ebb’s coffee shop. 

And then he was suddenly here. I’d watched him walk in and made myself busy in the aisles as I followed him, discreetly. He’d stopped and lingered in Fantasy and Science Fiction so I purposefully made my way over there to see if I could be of assistance. 

He’d been thumbing through one of Davy Mage’s books. I’ve told Fiona I don’t know why we even carry them. They’re pretentious and boring, in my opinion. But for some reason every bookshop seems to carry them. They’re insidious. It’s irritating. His writing style is pompous and overblown and his use of the Chosen One hero trope far too predictable. 

I’d only meant to offer some assistance but instead I’d managed to startle him so badly he’d spilled coffee everywhere and shouted at me. I’d gone completely distant and cold in my embarrassment. 

Fiona had a field day with me after he left. “That’s the boy you’ve been mooning about, then?” 

“Shut up, Fiona.” 

“So he is the one! You’re absolute shit at flirting, Baz.” She leaned across her desk and smirked. “Or did you just want to see him with his shirt all wet and clinging to him?” 

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the store room. 

But he’s here again. I thought he’d never come back. 

Bunce is here almost every week but she always comes alone or with that tall American chap. I’ve never dared ask her about Simon. She talks about him though. That’s how I know he’s her roommate.

How I know his girlfriend broke up with him a few months ago.

How I know he’s not seeing anyone currently. 

Against all odds he’s here again. He bumped into. Literally bumped into me and knocked down a stack of books.

His hair’s a mess, disheveled curls falling over his forehead. He’s covered with freckles. They’re much more noticeable close up.  He’s fucking gorgeous and I’ve got no idea what to say or do.  
  
_Play it cool,_ _Baz_ , I tell myself. _Don’t be a fucking numpty like last time._

It’s child’s play finding books that Bunce will like. It keeps me close to him, wandering about the store, crossing back and forth to find books I know will appeal to her. He follows right behind me and when he almost bumps into me again I catch the scent of soap and cinnamon rolls. 

He must have been at the bakery before coming here.

I’ve no more excuses to keep his attention. I’ve found three or four books that will work and we’re making our way to the counter now. He’ll pay and leave and I’ll likely never speak to him again.

Fiona’s on check out duty but as soon as she sees me coming towards her she makes a show of moving off and complaining about all paperwork on her desk and how it’s my turn to run the counter. She makes a runner for the back but not before winking at me.

I’m mortified. She’s my aunt so she thinks she can get away with being this way.

I slide behind the counter. “So, which one are you going to get?” The pile of books we’ve collected as likely prospects for Bunce are in his arms. He sets them down. 

Simon frowns. “I’m not sure, really.” His blue eyes meet mine. “Which one do you think she’d like best?” 

I can pick one and ring him up or use this opportunity he’s given me to extend my time with him. I dart a look around the store. A few customers but no one headed up to make a purchase.

I start to talk about ‘ _Circe_ ’ and then carry on about the other books. What I think Bunce would like about each one, why I think they’re relevant. I know I’m droning on and on but he’s got his eyes riveted on me and I can’t stop talking and I don’t want to look away.

I don’t want this moment to end.

He’s right here. In front of me. And I’m blathering on about subversive retellings of myth and anger transcending into political upheaval.

I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I pick up ‘ _Circe_ ’ and push the other books away. “This combines a bit of everything. Feminism. The occult. Antiquity. I think she’ll like this one.”

It’s over now. He’ll pay for his book and walk out the door. And I’ll never have a chance like this with him again.

“Sounds good. I’ll take that one, then.”

“Would you like me to wrap it up? Since it’s a gift?”

“You do that?”

“It’s a service we provide, yes.” It’s not. I’m making this up on the spot. We do have some gift wrap we sell, in the back, with the gift bags and such. I ring Simon up and then leave him at the counter while I scurry to the back to grab wrap and ribbon.

“I’m taking this out of your wages, boyo.” Fiona whispers at me as I skirt by her desk, ribbon and shiny wrap in hand.

“Fine.” I have no time for her. Simon is still waiting for me up at the counter.

 

 

**Simon**

I could buy any of the books he’s chosen and Penny would be thrilled. It’s easier to let him choose. He’s read them all and has a better idea of what interests her, if he’s been debating feminist ideology with her. It goes over my head when she gets on a rant.

I lean my elbows on the counter and just drink him in. His face is animated and there’s a flush on his cheeks. It suits him.

I could listen to his voice all day. It’s posh and cultured but that’s not what I like about it. Not all I like about it, I mean.

I like how deep it is, resonant I suppose you’d call it. It washes over me and I’m quite pleased to let him go on about the books to his heart’s content. 

He stops eventually. Pushes one towards me. “This one. I’m sure she’ll like it.” 

I don’t even look at it. “Sounds good. I’ll take that one then.” 

He offers to wrap it and I eagerly take him up on it. I’m a fright at wrapping gifts.

He disappears to the back and returns moments later with ribbon and brightly coloured paper. 

It’s all precision and crisp, sharp edges. Penny won’t even believe it’s from me. His fingers are long and slender, folding the paper meticulously, curling the ribbon with an expert flick of the wrist. 

That’s it then. I’ll pay up and then I’ll have to go. I don’t want to, not now. I’ve got no excuse to linger though, after he rings me up. 

I pass him the money and then the coolness of his touch contacts my palm as he hands me my change. The sensation sends a rush of warmth up my arm.

He hands me a shopping bag, the expertly wrapped book carefully tucked inside. That’s it then. Time for me to go. 

“Thank you. That was quite helpful.” I smile up at him. “I’ll have to remember that next time I need to get her something. Thanks so much . . .” I trail off. I don’t know his name. He gets the hint. 

“Baz.” 

“Thank you, Baz.” And I stand there, like a lump, not moving. 

“You’re welcome . . .” he pauses meaningfully. 

“Simon. I’m Simon.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Simon.” He pauses and then glances to the back of the store, tilting his head up and raising an eyebrow. I turn and catch the woman in the back rolling her eyes at him and then nodding. 

“I seem to recall I made our first meeting a bit awkward, Simon. And I’m reminded that I likely owe you a coffee.” There’s a smile on his face now and this suits him even more. 

“Oh. I don’t know about that. I made a right mess of your carpet.” Is he asking me to go out for coffee? Or is he just mentioning it? I’ve got no idea. I’m pants at reading people, Penny tells me that all the time. 

Maybe I’m not good at reading people. Or perhaps I’m better than Penny thinks.  
  
I don’t want to wait for him to ask me.

 

**Baz**

 

I’m trying to work up the nerve to ask him to coffee. It should be the easiest thing in the world to say it. I’ve got leave from Fiona to bolt. I just need to get the words out. 

“I might have ended up down one coffee but I’ve a feeling you ended up on carpet cleaning duty.” He’s right. I did, thanks to Fiona. 

Simon’s smile is dazzling. I’m gaping at him, I’m sure. 

I should just go ahead and ask him to coffee. 

But then he goes and asks me. 

“I think you got the worse end of that so we’re more than square.” He shifts his shopping bag from hand to hand and then gestures at the pile of books I found for him. “You helped me so much today, Baz. I know you’re working now but could I buy you a coffee sometime? As a thank you?” 

“I’d love to, Simon. Is now good?”

It’s his turn to gape at me. “But aren’t you working? Can you just leave?”

“Happens I’m off. Starting now.” 

I bolt from behind the counter, nod at Fiona, and come around to stand next to Simon. “Ebb’s then?” 

He grins at me. “Yeah, Ebb’s. That’d be great.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from Peter Gabriel's song The Book of Love.


End file.
